The Difference a Bullet Makes
by TheSilverHunt3r
Summary: Dazai's eyes widen as something jumps in front of his face. The red blur staggers as it lands. Unable to keep its balance, it topples over on its side. Oneshot.


It is all going according to his plans. He is going to die here. And that's fine. It's what he wants after all. No one else dies this way.

Dazai's eyes widen as something jumps in front of his face. The red blur staggers as it lands. Unable to keep its balance, it topples over on its side.

There's no time to think about what just happened. Dazai pulls out his gun and shoots at Fyodor Dostoevsky. Fyodor's eyes are wide as Dazai's. Neither expected interference. Fyodor falls to the ground, a bullet in his skull and red liquid dripping down his forehead.

Dazai quickly makes his way over to the red blur that saved him. "Chibi, what are you doing here?" He asks, his cheerful tone an inch from shaking.

Chuuya is bleeding from his chest. The bullet is lodged right above his heart. "I took a bullet for you. Rather funny isn't it?" He smiles, a breaking smile that's as close to falling apart as Dazai feels. "You'd never take one for me."

Chuuya's eyes flutter closed. Dazai sits there for several seconds. He looks at his ex-partner, an expression on his face that screams silently for help. His eyes are narrowed with desperation and his thoughts scramble for an idea, for a solution. But what solution is there to death? His chest fills up, stuffed full of pain, anger, and a deep, deep sadness.

His shock fades as fog does on a bright morning. The clouds slowly move, urgency propelling them away.

He notices that Chuuya's chest is still going up and down. He grabs Chuuya's wrist, a pulse is there, steady yet faint. There is still a chance. There has to be.

XXX

The elevator takes too long, so Dazai sprints up the stairs. He regrets not doing as much physical exercise. He should be faster.

Dazai bursts through the Agency door. The unconscious body cradled in his arms is unfamiliar.

"Dazai-san! There you are..." Atsushi trails off. He goes pale, blood draining out of his face as he freezes.

"Dazai?" Kunikida carefully asks. Concern mars his face.

Dazai doesn't reply, only stops for half a second to send them a fleeting glance as he heads to the infirmary.

The short stop was long enough to Kunikida and Atsushi to notice the unknown person's state. A bright red pool on a white starched button up.

Atsushi quickly sprints over to the infirmary door and holds it open. Dazai enters immediately, a quick nod the only thanks.

Yosano turns around. A patient? Had one of her colleagues finally gotten hurt?

"Heal him," Dazai says. He's holding a vaguely familiar body in his arms. One with a spreading pool of blood on his chest.

Yosano's maniacal smile drops. She frowns instead and pulls out her medical bag. "Friend of yours?"

Dazai puts the body on one of the beds. His eyes are dark; darker then Yosano's ever seen them. "Heal him, please."

Yosano can't refuse. Not when Dazai's cheerful farce of a smile has slipped into a deeply etched frown. Not when Dazai is pleading for help.

XXX

Dazai stands by the white curtain, his gaze fixed on the man he brought in. The redhead's chest rises and falls with each breath. He is no longer bleeding, but his eyes are still closed.

"Who is he?" Atsushi asks.

"I'd like to know as well," Kunikida adds.

Dazai flicks his gaze towards his two colleagues. In a bright voice he explains, "He's my ex-partner, Chuuya."

Kunikida frowns and fidgets with his glasses.

Atsushi tilts his head in confusion. "Why's he like this?"

"He took Fyodor's bullet for me." Dazai clicks his tongue in annoyance. "Unwanted interference." He then immediately grins, his eyes full of stars. "I could have died otherwise."

"But you didn't. And now your friend is hurt," Kunikida snaps.

Dazai's eyes go cold and dark. "I know," he replies in a low voice.

"He's your friend?" Atsushi asks curiously.

Dazai's face goes blank and he shoves his hands into his trench coat pockets. "No," he denies. "We vehemently hate each other."

Atsushi frowns. "Then why did he save you?" He points out, confusion written all over his face.

Dazai stares at Atsushi, perplexed. "I don't know," he admits.

XXX

He doesn't know.

Because after all, everything is his fault, isn't it? If he hadn't forced Chuuya into the Port Mafia. If he had asked Chuuya to go with him. If he had taken care of Dostoevsky before. If he had chosen a better spot for confrontation. If he had hid his tracks better.

None of this would have happened if not for Dazai's mistakes. It was all his fault.

So why? The question frustrated Dazai. Because what could be the answer? Why did Chuuya save him? Chuuya knew he wanted to die. Chuuya knows him, how horrible and inhuman he is. Chuuya despises him, loathes him, has threatened to kill him.

Dazai stands by Chuuya's temporary bed for hours. Then sits, when his legs protest too much about their overuse.

The sun sets and rises before Chuuya wakes. Dazai is an unmoving guard, determined to get an answer.

He watches Chuuya's eyes open and then close. The harsh light too much for them.

Chuuya squints, his eyes two thin slits of bright sapphire. "Dazai?" He hoarsely questions in surprise. "Well, this is either hell or I'm still alive," he jokes in a rough voice.

Dazai frowns. "Why?"

Chuuya blinks groggily, struggling to understand the question. "Why what?"

"Why did you save me?" Dazai asks.

Chuuya blinks. "Why not?" He asks. As if there is no reason why he shouldn't give a d**n about Dazai dying.

"Because...everything?" Dazai flounders, uncertain and surprised once again.

Chuuya sighs. "Figure it out yourself, you 'genius' bandage-wasting a******e."

Dazai pouts. He dramatically gestures around as he protests, "But I don't know! I can't figure it out! That's why I'm asking you!"

Chuuya huffs. "We're friends, b*****d," he slowly says, as if it should be obvious. "Or, at least, I consider you one."

Dazai blinks as the pieces fall into place. "Oh."

Chuuya rolls his eyes. "Why must geniuses be such idiots at times?"

"But...we insult each other all the time. And act like we hate each other?" Dazai raises an eyebrow.

"Yes. And?" Chuuya deadpans. "A lot of friends do that."

"Huh."

"Well, at least you're not acting depressed," Chuuya mutters.

"The only friend I thought I had was Odasaku," Dazai states. His tone serious.

Chuuya frowns. "You really thought that? Well, I'm one. And your colleagues trust you, h**l, they would die for you. They all count too."

"Huh. Really?" Dazai leans forward, his voice thoughtful.

"Yes, really," Chuuya snarks. He then scowls. "Now, I swear, if my hat is ruined you're going to get it."

Dazai smirks and gets up, disappearing behind the drawn white curtain for a few seconds.

Chuuya sits up with a frown.

Dazai walks back in. In his right hand is Chuuya's black fedora. "This one?" Dazai asks.

"Yeah, that one," Chuuya affirms with relief.

Dazai promptly sticks the hat on his head with a smirk.

"Dazai!" Chuuya furiously yells. "If I could stand up, I'd strangle you!"

Dazai mockingly pouts. "Aww, where did all that care for my wellbeing go?"

"I will murder you if you don't give that to me right now!"

A/N

To summarize (tl;dr): Chuuya cares and Dazai is bad with people.

-Silver


End file.
